Transitional Stars

I wandered a bit of the Tenmile River Demonstration Forest with Laurie LaMountain, owner/editor/publisher of Lake Living magazine, this morning as we played catch up. Typically, we are in frequent touch with each other, especially while producing a magazine each quarter. But this winter, there will not be an issue, and so our contact has been less frequent.

Making our way via snowshoes was a bit of a challenge for the last heavy snowstorm downed many a tree and it was like maneuvering through an obstacle course.

As I stated in a blog post last year, the Tenmile River Demonstration Forest was donated to the Oxford County Soil and Water Conservation District (OCSWCD) in 1950 by Frank Merrifield, three years after the Great Fire of 1947.

Back in October 1947, catastrophic wildfires erupted throughout Maine during what became known as “The Week Maine Burned.”

It hadn’t rained for 108 days and the dry woods were like tinder. Here in western Maine, Fryeburg, Brownfield and Denmark thought they had a fire under control, but overnight a strong wind blew and gave it new life. About 2,000 acres burned by the next night as the fire spread to the edge of Brownfield.

With the winds continuously shifting, town folks began to panic. Farmers either turned their livestock loose or herded them to neighboring towns. Others packed as many belongings as they could and evacuated.

By morning, most homes and public buildings in Brownfield were mere piles of ash. Stately places including the Farnsworth Place where Dr. Philo Farnsworth, a pioneer in the field of television, spent his summers, had burned. Churches, schools, the post office, Grange hall, library and town hall all went up in smoke–only twenty houses survived. In the end, 85% of the town was destroyed.

According to the property brochure available at the kiosk, “The District Supervisors replanted the property with red and white pine” between 1950 and 1960. “It was their plan to turn the land into an example of wise and sustainable forest management and to use it as an education resource area to demonstrate good conservation management practices.”

Today, we noted some of the work that had been done as we made our way to the Tenmile River for which the property was named. And at the river, it was the amount of water passing through that drew us to a stop.

Standing beside it, we paused for the longest time. As it always does, the sound of the flowing water and sight of the ice captured our attention.

When the temperature dropped, the motion energy of water molecules dropped. At 32˚, water molecules slowed enough to link up with each other and formed a hexagon matrix. At that point, the liquid that once flowed became brittle ice in its varying forms.

There were examples of rime ice coating downed twigs. While frost forms from water vapor, the rime ice formed from water droplets–perhaps in a mist of our recent foggy days. If the temperature of the droplets was below the freezing point, they adhered to any surface below freezing.

Rime ice is hard and depending on conditions can be thick, heavy and white or clear in color. Today’s examples were the former and helped create unique shadows that danced in a way that will never be seen again.

That’s the thing about ice. It is ever changing and the patterns created intertwined with reflections upon the water provided lines portraying all manner of motion.

If you look closely in the lower right-hand corner, you may see the outline of a few people being pulled into the picture–the true water worshipers.

There was also a lady who reached up from her couch to grasp something–perhaps a bird of paradise. It appeared that the heart within her bosom was enlarged with love.

Every second of every day the pattern changes and so our observations were in the moment.

But no matter what, each rendition was a work of art, a sculpture to fill our souls and take with us.

As we took our leave, Laurie and I gave thanks for the opportunity to stand in awe and notice and be filled by the wonder of it all.